The darkness did not fall.
It swallowed.
When the torches died inside the greenhouse, the silence that followed was worse than the screams. It was thick. Suffocating. As if the night had pressed its palm over their mouths.
"Don't move," Anirban whispered.
No one listened.
Because something was moving.
Not them.
Something else.
A dragging sound circled them slowly across the wooden floor. Not footsteps. Not quite. More like wet fabric being pulled across soil.
Dustu barked wildly, spinning in place, teeth bared at empty space.
"Sibom!" Sayantika shouted into the darkness. "Answer me!"
No response.
Only breathing.
Close.
Too close.
Manoj's heart hammered in his ears. He forced himself to move his hands, fumbling for his phone. The screen lit up faintly, casting a weak blue glow around his face.
The greenhouse looked smaller now.
The walls seemed closer.
The scratches on the wood—"You came back"—looked deeper.
Fresh.
As if they had just been carved.
"Where is he?" Manoj asked, his voice breaking despite himself.
Anirban finally managed to restart his flashlight. The beam cut across the room violently.
Empty corner.
Broken pots.
Shattered glass.
No Sibom.
But the footprints—
They were everywhere now.
Thin. Long. Overlapping.
Layered.
As if dozens of unseen feet had been pacing around them in the dark.
Sayantika grabbed Manoj's arm tightly. "We can't stay here."
A sudden bang exploded against the greenhouse wall.
All four of them screamed.
The wooden panels shook as if something had slammed into them from outside.
Then again.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Dustu ran toward the door, barking ferociously.
"Open it!" Anirban shouted.
Manoj rushed to the entrance and pulled.
It wouldn't budge.
"It's stuck!"
"Move!"
Anirban pushed beside him. Together they yanked at the rotten wood.
Behind them—
A whisper.
Clearer than before.
"…five…"
They froze.
"…only one…"
The temperature dropped so suddenly their breaths turned white.
Sayantika slowly turned her head.
The far wall of the greenhouse was… breathing.
The wooden planks expanded slightly.
Then contracted.
As if something massive was pressing against it from the other side.
"No," she whispered. "That's not real."
Crack.
A thin split formed in the wood.
Through it—
Darkness.
Not shadow.
Not night.
Something deeper.
And inside that darkness—
Movement.
A shape sliding past.
Too tall.
Too thin.
The crack widened.
A pale line appeared.
Like fingers pushing through.
"RUN!" Manoj screamed.
At that exact second, the greenhouse door burst open violently.
All four of them stumbled out into the open garden, nearly tripping over each other.
They didn't stop running.
Branches whipped against their faces.
Thorns tore at their sleeves.
Behind them, something moved fast.
Not crashing.
Not stumbling.
Gliding.
Anirban almost fell near the dried pond, but Sayantika caught him just in time.
"Keep going!"
Dustu barked behind them again—but this time his bark sounded distant.
Too distant.
Manoj turned briefly.
He saw it.
For half a second.
Between the trees.
A vertical shape.
Long arms hanging unnaturally low.
Head tilted sideways.
Watching.
Then it vanished.
The wind picked up violently.
Leaves spiraled around them like a storm had formed inside the garden.
They reached the stone slab from earlier.
The one marked 1976.
Anirban stopped abruptly.
"Look!"
More dirt had shifted.
The slab was no longer stable.
It had moved slightly.
As if pushed from below.
The soil around it was cracking.
Sayantika backed away slowly. "Something is under there."
Manoj stared at the partial name carved in the stone.
"…oj."
His throat tightened.
"My grandfather's brother was named Ranoj," he said slowly.
Silence fell over them.
Anirban looked at him sharply. "Ranoj?"
Manoj nodded.
"He disappeared in this garden."
A low rumbling sound vibrated beneath their feet.
Not thunder.
Not machinery.
Something deeper.
Something buried.
The slab shifted again.
This time clearly.
The ground beneath it sank inward slightly, revealing a dark hollow underneath.
Cold air rushed out of it.
Carrying a smell of damp earth.
And something metallic.
Old.
Like rusted blood.
Dustu began growling toward the hole.
Manoj felt it then.
Not fear.
Recognition.
As if the garden had been waiting for him.
As if it knew his footsteps.
Anirban crouched and shone his light into the opening.
The beam revealed wooden steps.
Leading down.
Underground.
Sayantika shook her head immediately. "No. Absolutely not."
"We have to," Manoj said quietly.
"Why?" she demanded.
"Because it called my name."
No one argued with that.
Another whisper floated upward from the darkness below.
Clear.
Slow.
"…Manoj…"
The sound echoed from beneath the earth.
Sibom's voice suddenly screamed from somewhere deeper inside the garden.
Not from below.
From the trees.
"HELP!"
All of them spun around.
"Sibom!" Sayantika cried.
The scream came again.
Closer.
Panicked.
"PLEASE!"
Without thinking, Anirban ran toward the sound.
"Anirban, wait!" Manoj shouted.
But Anirban disappeared between the trees.
Dustu chased after him.
"Don't split up!" Sayantika yelled.
Too late.
The garden felt alive now.
The trees were shifting again.
Closing in.
Blocking paths that had been open seconds before.
Manoj grabbed Sayantika's hand. "Stay with me."
They ran toward the screams.
But suddenly—
The screams stopped.
Dead silence.
They reached the clearing near the fountain.
Empty.
No Anirban.
No Sibom.
Only the broken fountain.
And fresh footprints circling it again.
This time—
Only four sets.
Manoj's blood turned cold.
Behind them—
A branch snapped.
They turned slowly.
The iron gate at the entrance of the garden stood visible through the fog.
Open.
But the path toward it looked longer now.
Distorted.
Unnatural.
The whisper returned.
Right beside Sayantika's ear.
"…not all of you will leave…"
She screamed.
Manoj spun around—
But she was still there.
Clutching his arm.
Yet her expression had changed.
Her eyes looked distant.
Unfocused.
"Sayantika?" he whispered.
She blinked slowly.
Then pointed behind him.
Manoj turned.
Near the fountain—
A tall silhouette stood in the mist.
Still.
Watching.
And beside it—
Two more shapes.
Thinner.
Bent.
Almost human.
Almost.
The fog thickened rapidly.
The garden seemed to shrink.
The gate slammed shut again with violent force.
And from somewhere beneath the earth—
The wooden steps under the stone slab creaked.
As if something had started climbing up.
Chapter 2 ended with Manoj realizing one terrifying truth:
The garden was no longer a place.
It was a trap.
And whatever was inside it—
Was counting them.